Where we sat

This is where we sat, amidst our early days, when the morning breeze filtered through the threads of my sweater. I shivered at the cold tendrils of the wind caressing my piloerect skin and you offered me your worn leather jacket, you endured 40/30/20/15 degrees for me. We met here every night and most mornings, we sat ten feet from a sign that forbid us to smoke within twenty-five, and I thought cigarettes made me feel alive. I was wrong. I was wrong every time I convinced myself you were a cigarette fiend and not a friend, someone to bum off of, someone to burn with. I was wrong because I didn't have the slightest clue what I was getting myself into when I called you in the middle of the night every night until I decided I loved you. When I called you and needed a lighter, though I had four in my purse alone. When I called you and needed a cigarette, though I promised myself I would quit. I didn't know that our beginning and our end would be the twin peaks of our relationship. I didn't know our binding and unraveling would be the most romantic thing to happen to me. But what about the in between? What about the empty spaces void of passion, communication, love and honesty? All there was to see was a nimiety of unkept promises and irrefutable deceit. This is where we sat, amidst our early days, before we became bookends supporting a collection of empty stories. #creativenonfiction #cnf #writing #classassignment #writer #vignette

A post shared by kim jones (@foxyjonesie) on

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